I See

This morning, it seems, these eyes sting of defeat

“Look harder,” the stormy air asks
“See clearly the calm, the victory now, here for the weary faithful.”

It was passive perhaps, to remain on the mat
Yet, that was The Way, way back then

Voracity and patience, be purposeful now
That the challenge of hope, the determined eyes
Shall be the reward, the brass ring

Just pick up your mat
Just see

Double Monocle

You were as a fiery thing

I had to double-check

I said with laughter that only I was meant to hear
Yet you came nearer

Don’t question me then, when I ask
How is it you hear?
How is it I see?

Nocturnal Eyes

I was not granted 
Nocturnal eyes
For in the dark
I cannot see people

Dancing like pinpoint lights I wish to make sense of and wish to join hands with

Smiling like soul-seekers they wish to be part of something much greater than this 

I was not granted 
Nocturnal eyes
Nor are those
Who descend

The Road Before Us

I think there’s pale, storm blue.

And a handprint or two. In black, but gentle, not graffiti-like.

I hear green breathing in and giving back.

Soft fibers that fell from all over. Reminders of the eyes and hands behind them.

Amber inviting throughout the space.

Smiles. Wisdom-teaching smiles, that comfort and Save. 

Hard-covered poetry within arms reach.

Wooden bowls, filled for friends, beside the window that’s right where it’s needed.